


Hi, Handsome

by widowshulk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widowshulk/pseuds/widowshulk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Natasha has a nightmare flashback to her first kill, she seeks out Bruce for comfort and they slow dance in the lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hi, Handsome

**Author's Note:**

> The music piece I had in mind for this fic can be found here and is a nice accompaniment I think: https://youtu.be/XMbvcp480Y4

Her hands are still, her heart steady, and her breath doesn’t falter for a second. She slinks through the familiar surroundings, silently seeking out her mark. It only takes her a minute before she’s in the bedroom where her target is sound asleep. Any good spy would have awoken at the sound of someone entering the room, but this spy didn’t, and that’s why she’s here, to put down a failing agent. She steps to the bed and retrieves the shoelace from her sleeve. In a matter of seconds, she’s pulled the head up and has the shoelace wrapped around the neck. She pulls as hard as she can and watches the body twitch as it awakens and then slowly fights back against her. As the body starts to go limp, she feels a dampness on her face. It can’t be blood; she specifically wanted this to be a clean kill. She tries to think of what else it could be, because the thing she thinks it might is impossible. She can’t be… she can’t be crying. As her eyes take in the body, she strokes her face and realises that is exactly what’s happening. She needs to get it together. She can’t go out there and face them in this state; she can’t be seen to be weak and feeble like the girl she’s just killed. She forces herself to stare at the body and remember the girl’s name: Anya Petrov. She had failed the Black Widow programme and she did not deserve to live. Natalia repeated the words to herself until the tears dried and she could face the superiors who were waiting for her report on the job.

\--

Before Natasha even opens her eyes, she can feel her heart pounding and her pulse racing. She scrunches her eyes tight, hoping to clear her mind of little Anya Petrov, but that only makes it worse; the lifeless body is all she can see. Trying to get comfortable, she rolls over onto her side, but ends up rolling her face onto a damp spot on her pillow.

“Shit,” she spits quietly, fighting the urge to punch her stupid pillow.

Knowing there’s no chance of being able to get back to sleep, she shifts herself into a sitting position and tries to catch her breath. Slowly, she wipes the tears off her face and wraps her arms around her knees, desperately needing to feel comforted and safe. She strokes little shapes into her legs to keep her mind distracted, but her hands are shaking and she clenches them into fists to try and get them to behave.

“It was kill or be killed,” she reminds herself in a hoarse whisper. She repeats it to herself, her voice getting quieter and quieter with each repetition. No matter how much truth there is behind that statement, and no matter how much good she may have done since, Natasha knows that she’ll forever be haunted by her first kill. 

Once she’s calmed herself, the bed starts to feel too cold and empty and she can’t stand to be in it any more. She feels so alone and so angry and if there’s anyone in the world who understands that, it’s the man who should be asleep next to her. Natasha steps out of the bed and recoils instantly, hissing at the floor. Wooden floors were a great idea when they were building the house, but when she’s barefoot in the middle of the night, they don’t seem so great. Reaching into her bedside drawers, she pulls out a fluffy pair of socks courtesy of Stark that she keeps in there for specifically this occasion. She laughs hollowly at how ridiculous she must look; butt naked except for a pair of bright pink fluffy socks that were a joke gift from Stark last Christmas. 

On her way to the bedroom door, she spots one of Bruce’s shirts hanging on the back of a chair and she pulls it on. It’s still warm – it must have been the one he was wearing in bed earlier, she decides – and it’s almost like a hug. It even smells just like Bruce; the perfect blend of peppermint and chemicals that has come to smell like home to her. She tugs it down, and she is very glad he’s not so tall that she ends up being swamped in his shirts. Nowadays, half of her outfits include something of Bruce’s that she’s borrowed because his clothes just so comfortable. Not that he ever complains, or would even dare to.

Instinctively, Natasha heads towards the lab, knowing that’s where she’ll find him. As she gets closer, she hears faint music coming from inside. It’s not a piece she recognises, but Bruce’s old man taste in music is even worse than Cap’s, so she’s not completely surprised that she doesn’t know it. She smiles as it gets louder and she realises how hauntingly beautiful the piece is; she can understand why Bruce likes it. 

She hovers in the doorway to the lab before she goes in, suddenly feeling ridiculous for dragging herself out here because of a bad dream. She’s suffered with nightmares for so many years now, since long before she’d even met Bruce. Resting her head on the frame, she closes her eyes for a second, and she is once more confronted with Anya’s lifeless body. She shudders and wraps her arms around herself. Then she flicks her eyes open, turning to Bruce who’s hunched over his computer in his little science bubble, completely at ease with the world. As she takes in the sight of him, she can’t help but smile. Just being close to him relaxes her body and she can almost feel the tension dripping off her body.

She silently walks towards him, but she stops slightly short of him so as not to scare him.

“Hi, handsome,” she says as she wraps herself around his back.

He reaches up and strokes her arms, mumbling, “Hi, beautiful.”

She eases her grip on him and he takes her hand in his as he stands to face her. He takes in her red eyes and puffy face and then he knows why she’s come to him in the middle of the night. He pulls her in to him and envelopes her body with his. For a long time, she wouldn’t let him touch her after a nightmare, and it broke his heart because he was so powerless to help her. Now, though, he rests one hand on the small of her back, keeping her close, and the other he runs through her hair, relishing the feeling of touching her like this. His actions are small, but they’re intimate and meaningful and she trusts him enough to be vulnerable around him and he wants to worship her in this moment. He tucks stray strands of hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead before he lowers his head to rest on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck. Her hands are around his neck, absentmindedly stroking him with her thumbs. She slides one hand down to his chest, letting herself feel his heart beat; the consistent thumping on her hand reminding her that they’re both so lucky to even be alive. Not only are they alive, but they are together. Through all the pain and torment, they have a life filled with these little moments in one another’s arms when the rest of the world becomes meaningless.

The music continues to play as they stand there in each other’s arms and Natasha starts to sway to the music; she nudges Bruce with her hip, wanting him to follow her lead. There’s no fancy footwork in their dancing, they just move their bodies together in time to the music. The room is silent except for the music and the shuffling of their feet. They don’t speak as they dance, they don’t talk about Natasha’s nightmare, they don’t need to; for these moments, they are entirely without history and hurt. They both forget about the world, about everything, as they become entranced by the music.

When the music stops, they slow down and then they’re just standing engulfed in one another. Bruce pulls back from her slightly and tilts her face up to look at him, all he wants is to know that she’s okay. She smiles at him and lightly presses a kiss onto his chin and he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He returns her smile and looks down at the shirt she’s wearing. He tugs lightly at it and raises his eyebrows at her with mock horror on his face. She grins at him before shrugging.

“It looks better on you anyway,” he says, taking her back into his arms.

“You’re quite the charmer, Doc,” she replies.

Bruce flushes and she takes a step back, sliding her hand down from his neck and taking his hand in hers.

“Come to bed?” she asks in a small voice.

He squeezes her hand and nods, letting her lead him out of the lab.


End file.
